


Character Building

by purrslink



Category: A-Team (TV), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrslink/pseuds/purrslink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Character building has never exactly been one of Face's favorite things until Murdock adjusts his view on the subject with a very poignant example of all that phrase can entail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Character Building

Four layers, a sleeping bag with a -30 rating, and the hood pulled up over his (formerly) carefully combed hair and he can still see his damn breath fogging up the interior.

“I really don’t see why it was necessary for me to stay.”

There’s just enough room in the Cessna 172 for them both to huddle in the front, knees bumping the yoke and feet still within range of the pedals, even with the seats as far back as the can go. He’s never liked to be confined or unable to stretch out, and he can’t imagine that Murdock is actually having as good a time as he’s pretending to have in this little single engine “beauty” as he called it this morning.

“Cold builds character, Faceman, didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”

He glances over to the pilot’s seat on the right at that, going with an ‘are you kidding me?’ look for this particular Murdockian gem. “And I suppose that the further down the mercury goes the more character I gain?”

Brown eyes meet his and grin just as much as that mouth does. “You got it in one, muchacho.”

“I can think of eighteen other ways to build character that are warmer and more comfortable than this,” he huffs, scrunching down further into the down bag and looking away from that infuriatingly warm grin. The one that he should be viewing in bed, preferably under the covers and after their own attempt to heat up the night. “Besides, who ever said I need to build character?”

“Everyone needs more character, Faceman!” He’ll never understand how the pilot takes this all in stride, so easily, without once even commenting on the fact that his long legs have been restless since the sun began to set.

An image swims into his mind of Murdock stuffing more characters into that persona packed personality of his and he shudders. “Murdock, if there’s anyone who does not need more character, it’s you.”

Murdock gives him a puzzled look, just a flash of surprise before that smile is affixed back into place. “Now I wouldn’t say that.” He almost expects a serious answer after that. Almost. “No connoisseur of character is complete without Popeye, and I still haven’t quite got him down yet.”

Then, sure enough, the swaggering, spinach-eating sailor makes an appearance. “Besides, we ain’t talkin’ about me! We was talkin’ about you! You need more salt in yer bones, sailor!”

“Salt in my bones?” He doesn’t even know what that means. “Murdock, the only think more salt in my bones is going to do is make sure I die of high cholesterol or a bad heart before Decker even gets another shot.”

Popeye disappears and Murdock is back, chuckling. “Not that kind of salt, Faceman. The kind of salt that makes a sailor attract all those other boat captains and first mates for tales around the bar. The kind of salt that makes a dinner five star instead of four. The kind of salt that people pay big buckaroos for cause it makes bath time that much better.”

He’s lost Murdock by the second example and shifts restlessly, timing his sigh to ensure that the litany of examples doesn’t continue to come. “Great, so I should be turning into a garnish is what you’re saying?”

“No, not at all.” Brown eyes give him a look as if he’s just missed the most clear and concise point ever made on earth. “What I’m sayin’ is that salt builds character.”

And there’s the thing that leads all of this back. He groans, again, unable to not sound frustrated. Frustrated with Murdock, frustrated with this mission, and most of all, frustrated at spending the night in the cold and dark. “Let’s just get some rest, ok, buddy?”

But Murdock isn’t going to rest now until he makes the point abundantly clear, apparently. “Look at it this way, Face. Salt might be bitter all by itself, but with other things it brings out the better qualities of that thing, the character of it, right? It’s why good people are salt of the earth, why Egyptians buried salt in with the pharaohs, and why French fries always come with salt on them.”

If he wasn’t lost before, he is now. “Look, I’m not one to deny that a little salt on my potatoes goes a long way, Murdock. But I don’t exactly see how salt or character is going to help replace Jeanie’s very nice hot chocolate or the fact that there’s probably a roaring, warm fire going on in the main room right now OR-”

And he gives Murdock a very pointed look now, as if reminding him exactly what the pilot is missing out on as much as he is. “A very comfortable bed.”

A bed with him in it.

Murdock chuckles, soft and deep. “Oh Faceman, you’re a literal one, aren’t ya?” Then, quite suddenly, he’s face to face with an amused, slightly worked up pilot. “Let’s try thinkin’ of this visually…”

And to his surprise Murdock moves, kissing him soundly across the gap, leaning heavily into his well planted self to keep the kiss level, insistent.

He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, doesn’t like the strength behind that narrow face or the way Murdock’s tongue gently traces his lower lip in the most careful, most reverent of motions. They’ve done this before on long nights, but almost always in a bed somewhere. Some cheap motel, some rented cabin, some borrowed room.

The plane in the middle of nowhere, in the land that Canada doesn’t even want, is definitely new.

All too soon Murdock pulls back and all he can stammer out is a very sophisticated, very polished, “Uh…”

Murdock gives him a very wide grin with a pair of highly raised eyebrows – amused. “Now if we were back at the lodge, Faceman, would I be able to do this?”

A chaste kiss is planted on his lips, feather light and supple.

“Or this?”

Warm air whistles softly across his ear.

“Or this?”

An equally warm mouth sucks lightly on his earlobe, nibbling affectionately before it withdraws, leaving him with his mouth slightly open like a village idiot. Which he may as well be because, really, how did he not realize opportunity staring him in the face? 

Suddenly, the middle of the wilderness doesn’t seem quite so disadvantageous now.

All he manages out at this startling revelation, this reversal of the situation is, “Oh.”

Murdock’s eyes are slightly lidded now, the smirk evident in his low drawl. “Little salt ain’t so bad now, is it, Faceman? Helps bring out the very best of things.”

Things click now with that, making sense of the fact that they’ve talked about nothing but sodium for the past fifteen minutes. Making sense as to what exactly salt is supposed to be in this case. Of what kind of character everyone could use more of. “I suppose it does…”

The pilot leans in closer again, stopping just short of contact, noses brushing in the dark. “Just suppose?”

It’s his turn to smile as he closes the distance, taking control this time and asking, just shy of demanding. Murdock gives, however - the pilot always does - and laughs softly at his insistence, sliding a hand out to push back the hood of the sleeping bag, exposing his neck for Murdock to duck down and place small, lingering kisses along the smooth surface.

As a light set of lips tickle the crook of his neck, he has to give in. Particularly as he feels his own skin growing warm under such gentle ministrations. “Ok, ok. Perhaps a bit of salt does build character.”

With that Murdock snorts, places one last kiss to his neck before rising to meet him for a long, slow kiss. “Knew you’d get it eventually.”

He smiles as their noses ghost the other in the moonlit interior, breath no longer fogging as they create a warm space. Brown eyes smile at him from underneath hooded lids and though he’s not entirely sure how they got here, or why it didn’t happen sooner, it really doesn’t matter in the end. All that matters, he supposes, is the fact that though it’s cold, it’s cramped, and they have to sleep in this hunk of metal overnight, there are several ways in his mind that he can make this situation a lot more bearable.

A lot more fun for them both.

Numerous chances to bring out the best of this situation and turn it into something that, just maybe, he’ll look back on fondly.

Which is why he pulls himself together to raise one challenging eyebrow and give a smug little smile at that equally insistent brown gleam. “So all this character I’m building. Can I cash in on it now or am I short a few points?”

Murdock grins, a slow, lopsided grin that turns out more sultry than teasing. “I can think of one or two things that might be available.”

It turns out there is more than one or two. In fact, there are several things that suddenly become a possibility when he stops concentrating on where they are and turns his attention to what they could be doing.

Suddenly the night really isn’t that cold after all.

And he’s very, very, very glad that he’s here after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Yahoo! A-Team group.


End file.
